


You Can Read Me Like A Book

by DrWholock_Holmes



Series: The Book Club Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Star Trek RPF, Star Trek: Into Darkness - Fandom
Genre: Caught, F/M, First Impressions, First Kiss, First Meetings, In Public, Library Sex, Public Display of Affection, Quiet, Voice Kink, makeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrWholock_Holmes/pseuds/DrWholock_Holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the "Book Club" series followed by "A Story Worth Telling Twice."</p><p>More Benedict/Reader like I promised after all the lovely comments I received on the last one, also I'm thinking about taking prompts so if you have an idea leave me a comment and I'll see what I can do! :) </p><p>You're bored after the rain has kept you inside and a friend recommends a visit to a historic library, but you who should you meet searching the aisles but Benedict Cumberbatch, and what can you teach him that he couldn't learn anywhere else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're All Stories In The End

The crisp morning breeze washed over you as you walked slowly, enjoying the first few rays of sunshine that kissed your face from between the faint clouds overhead. “Not a bad day for June” you thought to yourself, considering the recent dark brooding skies, clouds soaked with waiting rain that had kept you feeling a little miserable cooped up inside. The streets were relatively quiet for London, especially given the weather but you relished the peace as you bent your head, peering at the map on your phone screen, trying to work out if you were heading in the right direction. As you looked up again you paused, and checking your phone once more turned left, taking a few more steps before smiling at the beautiful building in front of you.

Dr William’s Library. It was just as gorgeous as your friend had told you a few days ago as you moaned to her that you had to get out and do something, go somewhere new and get out of your recent slump of boredom. The flat had seemed monotonous and dreary, the same walls and same sights outside of your window starting to drive you crazy after a few days of cold and rain. She knew you so well, telling you that you really should go and see the library, that it was beautiful and one of her new favourite places to work given her current Psychology degree and the libraries access to old and rare books that she knew you’d love.

As you pushed the doors open you inhaled, relishing the smell of paper, of ink and wooden bookshelves, almost groaning under the weight of a million words bound up and waiting to be read. You crossed the few steps to the main desk and explained to the librarian that you were visiting and that you’d spoken on the phone, knowing how for visitors they requested that you asked in advance whether you could come along. She smiled gently and nodded, turning away to the computer as she asked for your details and typed, the gentle clicking of the computer keys seeming to bellow and echo in the silence of the room.  
After a few moments she handed you a visitors pass and you smiled graciously, tucking the pass into the pocket of your jeans as you stepped away and stared around you, your lips curving into a grin at the towering stacks of manuscripts and books.

Not knowing where to start you headed towards the back of the room, seemingly empty and inviting, the furthest book covered wall half hidden by a great row of shelves. As you paced the shelves quietly you smiled again, making a mental note to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home to thank your friend for introducing you to the place. She was right, it was beautiful, the high ceiling adorned with dark oak beams and paper thin cream lanterns edged with gold.  
Moving your hand away from the bookshelf in front of you momentarily you turned, head tilted back to see the upper floor, every wall still lined with beautiful books. Taking a step back to see the higher shelves more carefully, your back hit something solid and you jumped, knocking the bookshelf to your side and sending several books tumbling as the person behind you put a hand out reassuringly.

“God I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, are you alright?” You turned suddenly at the voice, eyes trailing down the tall, dark haired figure as your jaw wanted to drop. Not a chance. This couldn’t be who you thought it was. The words of surprise that had formed in your mouth dissipated instantly as you blinked again and stared into the grey-blue eyes that met yours in return, edged with an expression of curiosity.

Benedict Cumberbatch. This couldn’t be real. The one and only wonderful actor you’d admired for so long in Hawking, War Horse and everything else, especially Sherlock, your slightly secret obsession. Benedict’s head cocked slightly as he tried to figure out if you were okay until you wondered what you must look like. Some sort of rabbit caught in the headlights. You blinked again and coughed quietly, trying to regain composure despite the warm but unsettling feeling of butterflies inside your stomach that fluttered through you as fast as your heartbeat, suddenly nervous and sending your blood coursing to your skin in a flood of faint colour across your cheeks.

“Are you alright?” He questioned with an easy yet somewhat concerned smile. “You seemed to jump through the roof, I didn’t mean to frighten you, I mean,” he chuckled, the sound rich and rumbling as your heart pounded faster inside your chest. “I’m Benedict,” he laughed extending a hand towards you. “Yes, I know who you are, I mean,” you paused briefly trying to form a coherent sentence before exhaling and shaking his hand. “I, well I’ve seen you on TV, and in the cinema actually. I loved Star Trek by the way, erm well done?” He laughed again and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch into an unstoppable smile, heat prickling across your cheeks as the faintest lines crinkled around those silver-cerulean eyes.

“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he spoke as his mouth curved into another grin before he shook his head slightly causing the newly grown raven curls to fall across his forehead in a tangle your fingers twitched to trail through. As though he could read your mind his own hands reached up slowly and combed the stray locks away, trying to push them off his face before he sighed again and dropped his hands, unable to prevent the slight curtain that skimmed his eyelashes once again. “Bloody thing, it’s driving me mad!” He sighed, loud enough to warrant a sharp shushing sound from somewhere across the room. He held his hands up in mock apology in the general direction of the noise then faced you again, lowering his voice this time, so faint you could barely hear it.

“Yes, it’s driving me crazy this, won’t learn to behave! Still, can’t have Sherlock come back with a sudden fondness for hair gel and a city slicker look…” He trailed off. “Sorry,” he apologised, his face crumpling slightly, those perfect cupids bow lips pouting gently in exasperation. “Here I am rambling on and you’re just stood there probably wondering why I’m disturbing you and keeping you from your work, sorry again, I just thought this space was empty only clearly you found the best space first.” The frown left as quickly as it had come as he nodded and moved to turn away.

“No don’t go!” You asked, once again evidently loud enough to earn another muttered scolding from a mysterious keeper of the keys. He turned to face you again, eyes roaming over you quickly which sent a shiver down your spine. “I mean, I’m not working, only looking, I’d hate for you to have to give up the quietest part,” you smiled before continuing “well it would be without us making so much racket!” A broad grin swept over Benedict’s face, the gentle lights hanging above him dancing across his eyes and the slight swell of his cheeks only emphasising the sharpness of his sculpted cheekbones more.

“If you’re sure, I’d hate to disturb you…” He trailed off. “Oh not at all, I wouldn’t complain if you did.” You stopped then, momentarily taken aback at your assertion. Shit, were you really flirting with him? You glanced upwards to meet his eyes, judging his response and felt the faintest hairs on the back of your neck stand up upon discovering they shone with a mischievous gleam. “In that case I’m glad,” he purred softly.

As you moved to face the bookshelf he crossed the few steps back to you, almost touching but not quite, the ridiculous closeness to him too much and not enough all at once as the fighting feelings of nervousness and lust oscillated inside of you. “So what made you come to the library?” You queried, aiming for a safe topic of conversation as you pretended to read the spines of books you couldn’t care less about. “Oh, filming, something I wanted to look up, a psychological technique where…” He stopped then, grinning and shaking his head. “No, sorry that would be giving the game away. Not until November I’m afraid, Steven would kill me!” You nodded as though discussing the third series of Sherlock and Steven Moffats big plans with one of the lead actor’s was perfectly average to you.

“What about you, I’m hoping you’re not here to look up elements of psychological torture?" He took a step back dramatically, feigning mock horror. “You’re not are you? Or am I about to get murdered?” You laughed and shook your head as he sighed, mockingly wiping the sweat from his brow. “I just like books really, a friend of mine recommended the place to me. She told me it was beautiful and I’d been bored so, here I am.” You shrugged your shoulders and smiled easily. “She was right, you’re at an excellent place to be if you’re bored, all sorts of adventures happen on these bookshelves…” You felt your skin rush with heat as the words fell from his lips before he cast his eyes down, then up again to meet yours, half apologetic, half mischievous as he realised what he had said.

“That’s not what I meant…” Though he feigned apology you knew he was secretly searching for your reaction, exposed by the curve of his lips and the glint in his eye. “You know, books, adventures? Though I suppose if you’re into that sort of thing…” His voice ebbed away once more as he gestured vaguely with one hand. “Not that I meant you of course, well I don’t know perhaps you are. Are you?” His voiced was inquisitive but edged with something else, a trace of suggestion as light as a taste of chocolate on someone’s kiss, noticeable but barely, a memory ghosting over you and pushing the taste into your mouth.

“I erm,” you stumbled briefly, both dying to change the conversation and to push him back onto the bookshelf and show him for yourself. “I love the smell of books; you know the sort of musty, sun warmed scent of them…” You continued, suddenly wanting to hit yourself for talking about the smell of books when you’d almost been propositioned by not only a guy you thought was funny, intelligent and gorgeous but an actor, a famous, lusted after actor to boot. He nodded at your suggestion, casually tracing the spine of a book with one thumb as he considered it. “I suppose you’re right, I mean that too is a reason to love these places though still,” he paused though never meeting your eyes and his lips formed the shape of words you longed to hear, “imagine that. Being surrounded by that, that richness and having the scent of someone else against your skin, pressed up against you, it must be an overload. Then there’s the secrecy.” His voice dropped almost to a growl as he continued, long fingers still idly swirling across the leather.

“Oh that secrecy, all that shushing, trying to be ever, so quiet. Then again,” his hand dropped suddenly as his stare pierced you. “Maybe that’s the beauty of it, maybe despite trying to be so silent you can’t help yourself, perhaps a whimper escapes your mouth, the softest moan, but you don’t care, you want to get caught.” Then he took one step forward, bending his head gently to whisper in your ear “maybe you like it.”

As his warm breath danced across your skin and the sound of your blood rushing pounded in your ears you pushed your nerves deep down, burying everything else in the darkest recesses of your mind with a gentle exhale before tilting your head and pressing your lips against his in a soft kiss.


	2. I Just Can't Put You Down

You barely had time to register what you were really doing before his teeth nipped at your lower lip gently, his soft lips kissing you with a passion like you were giving him his last breaths and a low sound of approval humming in his throat as he placed one hand on your face, pushing the tips of his fingers gently into your hair and moved the other to your waist, guiding you slowly but firmly until your back was pressed against the bookshelves.

Your mind was hazy with sensation, trying to catch the softness of his wandering fingers, combing through the hair by your temple and then pressing, savouring the curve of your waist and the warmth of his lips, each kiss drugging you until you felt like you were floating. The softest of sighs escaped your lips before he moved slightly, pressing himself against you as you realised what this was doing do him. As he rocked against your thigh your lips parted gently, releasing a whimper you tried to stifle though it was too late.

He tutted teasingly by your ear. “See I told you? The risk of it all is too much, and here I was just thinking you were a quiet bookworm two minutes into our conversation. Seems I was wrong, though I wonder what else you’re hiding from me…” You longed to moan then, to push your hands into his hair and whisper back that you wanted him to take you then and there without a care about who may be listening.

As you bent your head to tell him his phone rang suddenly, causing a furious shushing and tutting from a few feet away. He pushed away, leaving you breathless and panting as he scrambled in his pockets before reaching the phone and flicking it to silent, grumbling slightly as he began texting instead. “Is there a problem?” You managed as you tried to regain sensation in your jelly like legs. “It’s Steven he wants me to meet him now, on the other bloody side of London as well, says he’s had an idea about something and he has to tell me. On my bloody day off too!” He frowned, concentrating before pressing send and massaging his temples with one hand.

“I am so sorry about this, I really am…”He looked up from the screen with a mixture of disappointment and apology. “I’d love to stay, I mean Christ…” He glanced down before smirking slightly as your eyes found the obvious bulge in his jeans, “I’d REALLY like to stay but I have to go for this, even if it is a complete pain in the arse. This was definitely fun though, and to be honest I feel a little cheated.” He pouted slightly before smirking, that mischievous look shining in his lust darkened eyes. “Seems you were just starting to enjoy yourself as well…” He grinned before looking around suddenly, smiling when he found a pen on a nearby empty desk.

Lifting your hand up he turned it over, and bending, scrawled something on your palm. “This is my phone number, I’d really like to meet up again, I’ll be in tonight, tomorrow, for the next few days until filming starts again next week, so, please, call me? You could always come and have a look at the books in my apartment, I’m sure you would be kept very entertained…” As he finished writing, he kissed your hand gently, peering up at you through the soft ebony waves and smiling, making your heart flutter again as his phone vibrated with another text. He muttered obscenities under his breath. “I’ve got to go but I mean it, please call, I’m sure I’ll be up late reading,” and with one final smirk he moved away, twisting between the bookshelves until you heard the faint electronic buzz of the front door closing behind him.

As you collected yourself and laughed with disbelief you stared at the number on your hand and slowly found your exit, trying to ignore the array of bemused and outraged stares you received as you approached the entrance and bent your head away from the cheerful yet knowing glance of the librarian. Suddenly you were out again in the bright daylight, your lips still tingling from his kisses and the breeze clearing the fogginess of your mind. 

As you made your way back up the street with more than a spring in your step you smiled to yourself, remembering a quote you’d learned a long time ago by Aldous Huxley that said “the proper study of mankind is books.” “Perhaps he was right in some ways” you thought to yourself but then considered the fact that you couldn’t learn everything by reading, after all, you knew with the number on your hand you’d have some serious studying to do.


End file.
